Enemy of my Enemy
by Kukuracha Jack
Summary: Falconsbane is not the only new threat...Naruto crossover. T for now.
1. Shocks

Begins shortly after Elspeth and co. return to Haven. I am actually writing the book parts from memory, since I have not read it in at least a year, and don't have a copy on hand.

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**Shocks**

"Now that that's out of the way, here's the real reason I want to talk with you," said Kerowyn. She bit her lip, as if trying to make up her mind what to say, then went ahead. "Ancar has two new allies, and both are so strange, I was wondering if you couldn't help us know what to expect. My agents say that one is more than half cat, and his name is something like 'Falcon's Breath' or 'Falcon's Death'."

_Falcon's- dear gods._ Elspeth felt like she had been poleaxed, Nyara looked stricken, the gryphons' heads shot up in alarm, Firesong bit off an oath, Skif a curse, and Darkwind looked quite ready to kill something. Kerowyn looked at them, raising a sardonic brow.

"I take it you know this person?"

Firesong was the first to regain his composure. "_Will we never be rid of the beast?"_ he wailed. "He has twice escaped traps which should have killed him, and now he has returned alongside a man who is determined to destroy this country. Some dark deity or demon must surely favor him, for reasons I cannot guess."

"Well that's one, but the second one, an 'Orochimaru', is just as disturbing. This one has a penchant for pretty little boys. He looks like a snake in human form, and although he's a mage, he does things very differently than anything I've ever heard of, and I've worked with the Shin'a'in shamans and White Winds mages. My agents say he simply knots his fingers for his spells, and can kill a man from fear alone. In addition, one of Ancar's minor master-level mages let it slip that he doesn't even need to touch the ley-lines or nodes to perform Adept-level spells; all his power is from within. His entourage is equally disturbing. One can _grow_ weapons from his bones, and another is actually two brothers sharing a body. All have some level of shapeshifting ability that grants them enormous power at the same time"

"I have never heard of such a thing, but if what you say is true, we have far more trouble to deal with than I would have imagined," said Firesong. "Hand symbols for spells, though they make sense, would eliminate the need for complete mental focus in a spell, and an out-of-control spell is equally dangerous to both sides. Sometimes a spell will loop and feed back on itself, gathering huge amounts of power before collapsing in on itself and bursting like a miniature sun. But an Adept not using the ley-lines? Surely that's impossible."

'_Actually, it's not. A hedgewitch and wizard get ambient energy from their surroundings, but almost all their power is drawn from their immediate strength and stamina. Mind-magic users use far less energy than conventional mages, but can perform far more difficult feats in some areas of usage. Finally, your branches of magic are fairly young. There used to be an entire system based on hand seals. Warriors were called 'shinobi', and trained their bodies to the extreme in stamina and combat to provide energy for their techniques,'_ explained Need.

"I have never heard of such a thing," said Darkwind.

"Nnorrrrr have we," said Treyvan, "Ssssurrrelllly the Heighllleigh Kingssss woulllld have had rrrrecorrrrdssssss of thesssssse ssshinobi."

'_Oh, but the shinobi wiped themselves out several hundred years before my time in what records called the Sixth Great Shinobi War, also known as the War of the Demons and the Fall of the Red Dawn. The few records that remained stated that the biggest players were the Fifth and Sixth Fire-Shadows, the Fifth Wind-Shadow, a group named Akatsuki, and a man named Orochimaru.'_

"So we are dealing with a man who pretends to be a shinobi," stated Elspeth.

'_Possibly. But if he somehow revived real shinobi techniques, we may have a problem.'_

"How? Surely our magic can counter this Orochimaru's variation."

It was Firesong who had an answer. "His servants sound like changechildren, but can revert at will, like the one who uses bone as weapons. It sounds implausible, but I trust Captain Kerowyn's agents," he stated, giving her a nod. "That's not possible unless he is a healing-mage, like me, and no healing mage would dare work with Ancar. Simply being near a place where blood-magic has been performed poisons us. In short, we have no idea what his full capabilities are, and are therefore unable to devise a counter."

At Skif's confused look, Darkwind explained, "It's like a court noble, trained to duel, being asked to fight an assassin head-to-head. Both may be highly trained fighters, but dueling is highly structured, and has a known set of rules; known weapons, agreed upon location and terrain, honorable behavior. An assassin always has a trick up his sleeve that almost nobody has ever seen before. The assassin knows what to expect from the noble, but the noble is clueless."

"So how will we counter that?" asked Nyara, who had been silent up to that point.

'_Easy. We find someone who knows how to fight as a shinobi, and have him teach us.'_

"Excuse me, but that sounds impossible. Didn't you say that the shinobi wiped themselves out? Where would you suggest we look? Under my bed?" asked Skif.

'_How does south of Karse sound as a vacation, everyone?'_

Kerowyn snorted. "That entire area is nothing but desert. Humans never passed more than a league into that place. It's completely dead. Karsite legend says that in the deep desert is a warrior's tomb made of bloodsoaked sand, and that's the closest you will find to life ever having been there."

'_That's not a legend.'_

"And what good is the tomb? Are records hidden there?" asked Nyara.

'_No. How does a genuine shinobi sound to the rest of you?'_

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Many miles away, a terrified servant in Ancar's colors knocked timidly on a door. Agonized screams emanated from the room as the man waited for the inhabitant to answer. The door creaked open.

A tall, pale man with jet-black hair and yellow snake eyes with purple eye shadow stared down at the servant. "Yes?" he asked during a pause in the screams.

"L-l-l-lord A-a-ancar w-wishes to sp-sp-speak with y-you, L-l-lord O-orochimaru." Around him, the servant could see a bloody table on which was a body so mutilated it was unidentifiable as either a man or woman. In place of restraining straps, metal needles had been shoved through all the joints and into the table below. The abdomen had been eviscerated; the ribs pulled back, organs suspended in small trays, still attached. The jaw had been dislocated, and the throat slit vertically. Against all logic, the body screamed again, a long tormented howl coming from the throat, not the mouth.

Orochimaru smirked, following the man's horrified stare. "As you can see, I am in the midst of an experiment. Perhaps if I had a new assistant, I could complete it before going to see…Lord…Ancar, hmmm?"

The servant could only nod in terror. Yellow eyes narrowed in amusement. "Thank you for offering." The servant was grasped by the throat and pulled through the door, which shut behind him. His own screams of pain mixed with those of the body on the second table.

Orochimaru smiled. It was _so_ nice to have willing volunteers for his work.


	2. Blind Trust

**Blind Trust**

Karse, Elspeth decided, was not such a bad place, after all. After Solaris came to power, the underlying current of fear that Alberich and Eldan had described seemed to have disappeared. Entire families were coming out to line the streets and watch the strangers pass. Smiling children were lifted on shoulders to get a better view of these odd, pale northerners. _Then again,_ Elspeth thought, _they had been told that we were demons. All they can see are humans riding on white horses. Well, the dyheli can be passed off as deer. At least Nyara's face is covered._ That last had been the self-conscious cat-girl's own idea. Apparently, Southern Karsites dressed differently than the rest of Karse, and wore robes and veils as everyday dress, rather than breeches and tunics, and Nyara had decided to take advantage of that style as they traveled.

After traveling to Sunhaven and explaining their purpose to Solaris, the group was continuing south with a guide, an old mage named Gregor.

"See," he said, "Soon we will reach the southern lowlands, and beyond them the desert. And though your journey leads to death, the lady Solaris has beseeched me to guide you to journey's end. We will be at the Tomb of Twelve in four days."

"Tomb of the Twelve?" asked Elspeth, "How did it get that name?"

Gregor did not smile at the question. "Several hundred years ago, one man, a graverobber who had learned to location of the Tomb, escaped from whatever monster resides in that accursed place. He said that within the tomb are twelve statues of glass, eight men and four women. All appeared to be a person in combat, both with weapons and unarmed."

"Did he also say what the monster was?"

"He claimed that the sand itself rose from the ground as a sandstorm which shredded his companions. His own arm had been ripped to pieces, and the priests who questioned him could detect no lie in his words. What makes you think you will find aid for our war?"

Elspeth glanced at the others. They all knew how Karse felt about mind-magic. Should they explain Need? She decided to take a gamble that things had changed under Solaris.

"What do you know of the mind-gifts?" she asked.

Gregor grinned at this. "Enough to know it is not the evil that the priests claimed." His face grew somber now. "You have heard of the cleansing fires, yes? Those were children with the ability to perform magic of the mind but resisted the priests' control." Elspeth nodded somberly. Years ago, Eldan had returned from Karse claiming that those in the priesthood had mind-gifts. Gregor tapped his temple. "I myself can hear the thoughts of others. Even outside the city, I can still hear thoughts. It is a relief to travel with you; your minds are quiet. Even yours, Lady Sword."

They all turned to stare at him. "Did you expect Solaris to send a narrow-minded by-the-book unTalented hard-headed doddering old fool as your guide? Nay, she is far too wise for that! Now, what does this have to do with our journey?"

Need's mind-voice was amused. _'Young man, you impress me, and it takes a lot to do that after being around for several thousand years. I suppose it's up to me to explain, unless someone else can pick their jaw up from the floor soon.'_

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The Karsites who lived at the edge of the desert were not what the little troupe was expecting. As it turned out, they were only considered Karsite due to geography and not ideology. They were hospitable, even though Elspeth took offense at the segregation between men and women. They were provided with food and shelter for two days travel south, before they split, as the nomads were headed west.

Need had been amused that the men had started chanting the prayers for the dead upon learning the Valdemarans' quest.

It was that night that the group fought.

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Firesong was troubled. Need had been remarkably quiet as to how a shinobi could remain alive for thousands of years. All she would say was that it was not blood-magic, but Firesong had his doubts, which he immediately confirmed with Gregor, since the others seemed content to simply listen to Need. How would a human retain his youth for so long without blood-magic? Unless he was not human…in which case…

"YOU ARE DEMON-RUNNERS!!!" Gregor turned on the group in shock, his hands suddenly blazing with power.

'_I tell you now,'_ Need said calmly, _'that we are going to ask a shinobi for aid. Why would you think I would bring you a demon?'_ At this point, the group split into three: Elspeth and Darkwind stepped to the side, Gregor and Firesong put up a shield, and the two groups face the third, Nyara holding Need with Skif prepared to fight. The dyheli trotted away as to not be mixed in the middle of the rapidly escalating conflict, while Gwena went to stand behind Elspeth.

Gregor was angry. "Solaris will not be pleased! She removed the rank of black-robe and personally burned the robes in front of the main temple! We will break the alliance if Valdemar attempts to harness demons for war!"

"Stop!" cried Elspeth. "Need says that we are not going to a demon. For all we know, the shinobi knew ways to extend life. Why do you assume that Need is lying?"

"What normal being could live for thousands of years? Need already said that this shinobi is flesh-and-blood, not sealed in a hunk of tin! How do you extend a life unless you take the life from another living thing? If not by blood-magic, then it's impossible! And according to Need, all the shinobis used internal power – their own life force! No life stealing! Which means that it won't be a live human in that tomb! The tomb is supposedly made of sand mixed with blood! It's a demon in there!" Aya began sending off sparks in response to her bondmate's agitation. Vree mantled on Darkwind's shoulder.

'_The dyheli have faith in me. You humans might try to have the same. After all, it is impossible to lie in mindspeech.'_

Elspeth looked troubled. "You might not be able to lie, but you aren't necessarily telling the truth," she pointed out.

"You idiots can go die. I'm not continuing," snarled Firesong.

Gregor nodded in agreement. "I had assumed you were simply being cautious with information. I will turn back and report this to Solaris."

They all turned to look at Nyara and Skif. "She's going. And I'm going with her," said Skif.

"Darkwind?" asked Elspeth.

"I go where you go ke'a'char," he said softly. "I agree with Firesong, though. Need hasn't given us an explanation, nor is she forthcoming. Even if it's not a demon, if not blood-magic, then a demon is somehow involved."

'_In that, you are correct, Darkwind.'_ Need's mindvoice sounded tired. _'But it is not my place to tell you the story. Partly because I don't know the entire tale, but mostly because some things are better kept secret, even to those with good intentions. And in times like these, the fewer who know anything at all, the better.'_


	3. Fight or Die

**Fight or Die**

That evening, the three factions avoided each other. Firesong and Gregor would be returning to Sunhaven in the morning after Gregor gave directions to Nyara. Getting close enough to see she was a changechild increased his distrust of the group even further. Elspeth and Darkwind would continue until they were in sight of the tomb. Nyara and Skif would enter alone with Need.

Vree being aloft seeking a snack before full dark saved them. "Enemy sighted!" snapped Darkwind, calling Vree down. "Two groups in Ancar's colors, fifty men each, north and west of us, moving in! Each group has six mages, and I would guess that the men are controlled."

Firesong felt the currents in the ley-lines shift. "All are Master level, one minor Adept, all blood-mages." A pause. "_Sketi!_ They have murdered within the past hour; they were planning this, and they have fresh blood magic. We can't stand and fight, not a pitched battle."

'_They must know about the tomb as well. We should have expected this. Can we avoid them?'_

Darkwind shook his head. "Both troops will be passing through this area; they'll see or sense us in these flatlands. Besides, they have the same goal as us."

Elspeth nodded. "It's a race, winner takes all. Let's go!"

Gregor wasn't as enthusiastic. "This is old demon-summoning land; empty, easily smoothed surfaces for written seals, and few distractions. The priests were never very clean in their techniques." By this time, they were packed and climbing into saddles. Gregor continued as he mounted his dyheli. "Many small creatures slipped through, and may still roam the area. Daylight would protect us, as well as grounded stationary shields, like around our encampments. Personal shields won't provide adequate protection."

Firesong sighed. "It seems I am with this group until further notice. I can feel the demons and steer us around them. I just hope our pursuers aren't as careful as us."

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It was a harrowing night. The dyheli and Companions had excellent night vision, and Aya's innate glow provided sufficient light for their eyes (I just made that up). It fortunate they did not need mage-lights; they could see their pursuers' lights whenever they crossed over a dune. It seemed that Ancar was just as desperate to have the Tomb's secrets as Valdemar.

Many times, Firesong ordered a change in course, widely circling the areas where he felt demonic presences. This slowed them and sent them off course time and again. They all prayed that their pursuers did not have a similar sensing ability. Several times, they heard a growl in the darkness, or the rustle of scaly wings or claws, or saw a brief flash of sickly-colored light, but there were no active hunters in the dark that night.

No magical attacks were made that night. It seemed that the enemy mages were just as wary of attracting demons, and they did not have demonic coercion spells. However, they did seem to have a method for avoiding the demons.

All the riders were exhausted the following morning, and even the surefooted dyheli slipped occasionally in the coarse, pebbly sand.

Their pursuers seemed to have dropped back a bit during the night, but as soon as it was light enough to see their prey, they picked up the pace. It seemed that all had survived the night without being eaten.

"Mind-controlled for certain," concluded Darkwind. "No normal human could have kept up with a rider last night, and they do not slow to rest. Firesong?"

"We will need to make a stand at some point. How much further to the tomb, Gregor?"

"Not far; see, it appears on the horizon." His already grim face scowled further. "I will take my chances with you in the tomb."

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The tomb was built into the side of a dune; all that showed was the door. It was a small archway, flanked with tall plaques. On one side was an hourglass, and on the other was a leaf with spiral veins patterned into it.

"I smell blood. Old blood. And some fresh," commented Nyara.

"No surprise," said Skif. "Look at the sand." It was blood red. When he dismounted and touched the sand, his hand came away stained with blood.

They dismounted at the entrance. "Do not go too far inside," warned Gregor, but Nyara and Skif were already headed down the entrance hallway. Firseong and Darkwind began setting shields and traps into the structure of the hallway. Not a moment too soon. The first Levin-bolt hit the outermost shield with a CRACK and the smell of ozone. This was followed with a battering-ram of air striking the doorposts, trying to break the shields' foundations. More spells joined the first two, and soon the air was filled with the sound of physical-damage spells impacting the tomb.

Darkwind fired an arrow at one of the mages, but it impacted a shield. He cursed, and tried again with a spelled arrow. This time, a man jumped in front, taking the bolt on a shield, which exploded. Darkwing swore fluently. The mages couldn't be hit.

Firesong's first trap was hit. It grabbed the mage that triggered it and fed him a backlash. He got a defense up in time, but the diverted power shredded his connection to his ley-line. He would still be able to fight, but he now had to conserve his power. The outer two shields broke soon after that, though.

The Valdemarans and Gregor ran deeper into the tomb. With the direct threat removed, the mind-controlled soldiers ran forward to hack at the hardened sand.

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"Look, have you ever seen anything like it?" Nyara commented. "They're beautiful!" She and Skif were standing before twelve statues; her first thought was that they were people, they were so lifelike.

The statues were arranged on the outer edge of a wide, round platform, with steps ringing the entire dais.

The people depicted were odd, to say the least. One at the far side of the room was a young woman with pink hair, wearing a pink shirt, black pants and boots, and black fingerless gloves. Her pose was such that she was punching the ground, and the earth under her fist had shattered. Another was a man dressed in black and grey with an odd stuck-up ponytail, who seemed to be melting into his own shadow. A third could be seen inside a blue dome. He appeared to be spinning like a top.

Darkwind, Firesong, and Gregor finally made it into the massive chamber, having finished the defenses along the only easy access route. Gregor was grey with exhaustion, but refused Darkwind's arm. "I am a Journeyman caught in a battle with Masters and Adepts. I probably deserve what's coming to me."

"Which way?" asked Elspeth.

There were two doors at the far end of the room. They entered the right side first. Inside was another statue. This was of a man with blond hair, blue eyes, and whisker marks on his cheeks, charging at the entrance. He was wearing plated black lacquered armor over a red shirt and red pants. Several bandoliers with pouches and weapons were strapped across his body, but what caught their attention was his right hand. He seemed to be holding a bright blue sphere with four wide blades extending from it.

The wall behind the statue was a giant, nine-tailed fox.

'_Behold,'_ said Need,_ 'The sixth fire-shadow, jailor of the nine-tailed demon fox. This statue is him holding his most powerful technique, the Spiral Star. The fox on the wall is, of course, the nine-tailed demon fox.'_

"Demons," muttered Firesong.

'_And you are inside the tomb. What are you going to do about it?'_ said Need.

"Stay in it, for the time being. And might I remind you that we have twelve mages breaking through the shields? Let us find our shinobi and get out of here before this becomes _our_ tomb."

"Look out!" cried Nyara. They whirled to see what alarmed her.

Blood-red sand mixed with the grey desert sand was hissing into the room in twisting vortices, making its way towards the travelers. There was no wind.

'_Now comes the hard part. I need you to trust me and do exactly as I tell you,'_ said Need.

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Thank you, all reviewers.


	4. Monster awakening

**Monster Awakening**

"I do not think-" began Firesong, as crimson sand continued pouring into the chamber.

_:Then don't, and just listen. Nyara, start doing what I told you. Everyone else, freeze.:_

Nyara drew a small knife and nicked her thumb, allowing several small drops of blood to drip into the sand. The sand absorbed the blood and paused, as if reading, while absorbing the blood. Now, it seemed content to flow like small rivers, hissing up and down and around, like a person trying to make up their mind.

_:And now we wait.:_

"What did you just do?" asked Firesong.

_:I had Nyara send a message. The sand responds to blood. Nyara is not quite human anymore, so her blood will attract its curiosity.:_

"You mean that if one of us had given the blood the sand would attack? You are taking a lot of risks with this, Need," stated Darkwind.

_:Not really. I would have had a dyheli donate some blood instead.:_

"Speaking of which, where are the dyheli and companions?" asked Elspeth. "Didn't they come in with us?" _:Gwena,:_ she mind-called, _:Where are you?:_ But the Companion was silent.

Darkwind closed his eyes. "Vree and Aya are safe outside, flying too high to be seen from below. I can see through Vree's eyes. I can't find the dyheli either."

"This is wrong," muttered Gregor. "I will go find them. Something may have happened to them. I cannot feel their thoughts." He made his way out of the chamber, doing his best to avoid the heavier patches of sand. The sand let him pass.

"How much longer?" ask Darkwind. He grimaced as a new trap was defused by the focus stone being smashed. "We have only a few minutes left before we have no choice but to fight."

The sand seemed to come to a decision. The rivers of sand began flowing to a single spot and began coalescing into the form of a man, gaining color as it did so. The man, or rather, boy, had alabaster skin, and seemed to be carved from a block of the purest white marble. This effect was only heightened by the faint tracery of veins running over lean sculpted muscles. His pale green eyes were black rimmed with ochre. A scar or brand traced a crimson symbol above his left eye. His shoulder-length hair was deep crimson, like fresh blood. He was dressed in a pale grey sarong and sash, which only heightened his appearance of being a stone carving.

The boy did not say anything, but his glare demanded that someone begin talking.

Glancing quickly at the others, Elspeth decided to take charge. "Our country is at war. Our enemy has a new ally with abilities we don't understand. A man named Orochimaru, claiming to be a shinobi, has joined forces with Ancar of Hardorn. We have mages, but reports of Orochimaru's skills leave us baffled. He knots his fingers to activate spells that cannot be replicated using conventional magical techniques."

The boy cocked his head to the left, as if to say 'so?'

"We were told you might know how to counter these spells, so we came to ask your aid," finished Elspeth in a rush.

The boy began pacing the room, eyes narrowed, apparently deep in thought. Firesong took the opportunity to whisper, "We only have a few more moments before the mages break in."

Elspeth nodded slightly. "I don't think he cares."

She had spoken too soon. At that moment, the boy dissolved into sand which exited the chamber in a rush, taking all the sand in the room with it.

"I think he does care," remarked Skif. "Let's go see what's happening.

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Nyara and Darkwind, being the best at stealth, crept into the outer chamber, with Elspeth, Skif and Firesong mind-linked to see through their eyes. They found Gregor with the companions and dyheli, keeping them calm. In their agitation, they were behaving like normal horses and deer, eyes rolling and acting skittish. They responded to Darkwind's and Nyara's presence, but still refused mental contact.

The boy had passed into the hall beyond, Gregor told them.

Darkwind felt the final magical trap fall. He and Nyara drew arrows and notched them to their bowstrings. They moved to each side of the door leading to the entrance hallway and cautiously peered around the corners.

The boy had moved to the center of the hallway and stood calmly watching the enemy soldiers move forward slowly, seeking a next trap or shield. When he appeared, the soldiers charged forward.

Nyara was about to let fly when Need sent, _:Wait.:_

The boy took a step forward and the soldiers were upon him like a pack of wolves. Swords rose and fell, but remained clean.

The soldiers didn't stand a chance.

The boy flowed through them like water, a foot lifting here, and arm reaching there, like it was a solo dance. But a dance does not sent bodies flying with twisted necks, crushed skulls, shattered ribs, and splintered limbs. Armor and shields crumpled under each effortless strike.

A smooth reverse-sweep – roundhouse (beautiful combo, especially if you are fast enough to catch the person in mid-air) sent the final soldier slamming into the wall, and then all that remained were the mages.

The leader, dressed in crimson with a firebird glyph over one shoulder, sneered as his companions moved to flank the solitary figure. "I see that you can fight hand-to-hand, but that was physical. Try _this_!" He flung a hand out, throwing what seemed to be fireballs, but the boy had collapsed into sand and reformed directly in front of the mage, who gasped, then coughed blood and collapsed.

Levin-bolts cracked from a second mage, only to be intercepted and grounded by a pillar of sand shooting up from the ground, which then bent towards the attacker. He threw up a hasty shield, but the sand spike burst into individual gains which swarmed him, caught him in a cocoon, and crushed him into a pulp.

The other mages wasted no time in directing concussive blasts, slicing winds, gouts of fire, and more levin-bolts at their lone opponent. Before, he had been almost liquid in his grace. Now, he stood his ground, using raw power against raw power, arms remaining folded across his chest with a bored expression on his face, returning the mages' attacks with sand that sculpted itself into spikes and walls, or hissed through the air like snakes. A concussive blast hit him, but he burst into sand and reformed on the spot, mocking the mage. Wind-blades left nicks as they scratched across his white skin, which smoothed over in an instant. Levin-bolts were blocked and grounded. Fire had no effect. His own attacks bypassed the mages' shields by being simply physical and swarming the victim from all angles. (In 'By the Sword', one method mentioned is to overwhelm the mage with bodies or arrows so he can't deflect all of them. From this, I concluded that a magical shield only works against magical attacks. Any physical objects would need to be countered individually.)

The final mage tried to run. Sand caught his ankles in a bind and broke them. The mage shrieked and began gibbering in fear, sweat streaking the dust on his face. "N-n-n-no p-p-p-please h-have m-mercy – AAAGH!" He cried out again when the sand picked him up by his feet and lifted him towards his tormentor, who simply rammed his arm through his chest, splashing blood.

"It appears," said the boy, in a whisper that carried to Darkwind and Nyara, "that my choice has been made for me."

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They sat or stood about the second room, which was completely empty, listening as Elspeth and the boy, who introduced himself as Gaara, discussed the situation.

"Orochimaru and his disciples have not yet made an appearance on the battlefield, but after seeing what you are capable of doing, it is only a matter of time before they do, and we have no way of countering him," said Elspeth.

"So what do you want from me?" Gaara's voice was deep and low, but it lacked warmth and betrayed none of his thoughts or feelings.

"We ask that you come back with us and teach us how to fight him."

Gaara shook his head. "Training must begin before age three. There is a minimum of three years of constant training before the person is capable of utilizing chakra. Some people never can learn."

"Anything you do would be of great assistance, regardless," assured Elspeth. "Even if it's only information about what Orochimaru might be capable of."

Gaara looked at Nyara before returning his stare to Elspeth. "You…intrigue me. Everyone else came to my home seeking riches or power. I will return to Haven with you. We leave before dawn tomorrow."

"One very important question," said Skif. "Could you tell us if Orochimaru a real shinobi?"

Gaara turned to give him the full benefit of his glare. "Yes. He transfers his soul from host to host."

"Forgive me for asking," said Firesong, "But how is it that you are still alive after all this time? Do you also jump from body to body?"

Gaara was silent for a minute before answering. "That is something better off unknown. Suffice to say, you will like my answer even less."

"Now, we make a run for Haven before anyone else-" started Elspeth.

"One moment," said Nyara. "What about the Companions and dyheli? They're _terrified_ of you."

Gaara simply stared at her. "Low-level killing intent. It keeps away most unwanted visitors. I can stop it if I so choose."

"Then please do so," said Elspeth. "We have a common enemy; we need to learn to work together."

Gaara nodded. "The enemy of my enemy is my…ally." Nobody missed the deliberate hesitation.

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_:Elspeth…:_ began Gwena, as Elspeth ran her fingers through her mane.

_:No need, love. Gaara explained that he was simply keeping away visitors.:_ Gwena simply hung her head.

_:But I am a _Companion_, not a regular horse. I should have stayed with you the entire time!:_ Elspeth noted a slight wail in Gwena's mind-voice.

_:And what could you have done? Stomped on the sand? Like it or not, it may have been better that you did not come in with us. And think. If something had gone wrong, you would be able to rush in and drag us out, simply because you were not in the middle of that mess in the first place. So don't fret, or else your mane and tail will knot from worrying about might-have-beens, OK?:_

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Talk about writer's block.


End file.
